Earlier, I wrote briefly about how MS Word has some built in features that could be used by writers to their benefit without any additional costs or effort, since the features were built in. Here, I continue the freebie discussion to cover styles and templates and macros.

Styles and templates are essentially encapsulated formatting descriptions. Where templates define how the page and overall document looks and feels, styles are used for defining either paragraphs or individual characters. You can pre-define a paragraph format with specific margins, font conditions, spacing etc., and character styles for font face and size, any additional attributes like superscript, subscript, etc. You can also “overlay” a paragraph style with a character style for added punch. You're asking yourself why bother, right? Your manuscript has basic formatting: headers, footers, margins, font face and size. And in the places you have a character’s thoughts, or songs, or any other changed format, you've simply altered the indentation and/or look of the text. What if you want to change it after a run through with a proofreader or your editor, though? What if you like to write at 14 pt. Courier font with single spacing on your paragraphs, but your proofer needs 12 pt., Garamond, double spacing with gaps between paragraphs, and larger margins for notes? What if the final output format is to be a completely different page size, with different margins, font faces and sizes? If the transitions from one to the other were accomplished with a few clicks, would the bother be worth it?

Styles:

The process of assigning styles and templates sounds horribly labor-intensive and time-consuming. But, using styles (and templates) can make it all much easier and more manageable. How?

First define your paragraph and character styles and use them while writing your opus. When needed, click the style name to apply, or set a keyboard shortcut to do it, and keep typing. If you need to change the style after 100 pages, all you need to do is redefine it in one place, and with a mouse click, all instances in the document can be instantly updated. No searching and replacing; no muss, no fuss.

How else can you use styles? You can apply character styles to the characters' names (and automatically insert the already-styled text with autotext) so finding variations on a character (e.g., nicknames, possessives, etc.) can be a matter of searching your document for the style, not the many possible variations on the text itself.

So, generally speaking, using paragraph and character styles handles the working manuscript nicely. What about when you hand it off to others who require a different look and feel? That’s where templates come in to play.

Templates:

To make the whole document look different is have a different template, (obviously) - but here's the kicker - with the same paragraph and character style names. That doesn't mean the same style definitions, just the same style names.

In your other template, the same name can have a completely different look and feel, and when that template is attached to your document, every place in the document that has an applied style will take on the attribute of the new definition. Pretty sweet.

For example, you had styled thought bubble paragraphs in your working manuscript as an +1" left and right margins, Italics font. Cleverly, you named the style "ThoughtBubble" and off you went. Your editor absolutely despises italics, so, in order to appease her and so she doesn't go all Red Pen on you, you want thought bubbles to be double underlined and not italics. What you do is create the paragraph style in a different template with double underline, and name it "ThoughtBubble" in that template too.

When you attach the Editor Template to your document, all instances of "ThoughtBubble" are now double underlined with nary an Italics character in sight. Editor: appeased.

Macros:

Macros are probably the least understood and most powerful tool in your belt simultaneously. To a non-techie, a macro is a scary thing that can eat your document, reformat your hard drive and shave your cat, just by looking at it wrong. To the programmer, they are easily dismissed as "just macros - not a real programming language."

Fortunately, both views are incorrect.

You can use macros to automate mundane repetitive tasks so they can be accomplished with a simple keystroke or by assigning it an icon on the Quick Access toolbar. Here is a good tutorial on how to record and save a macro. Specifically what tasks should you think about processing through a macro? Any task that you have to do multiple times through multiple documents that takes multiple steps. What actions are those for you? I don't know, since everyone is different and their processes are different as well. My personal metric to determine if something is macro-worthy is if it meets the following criteria:

I have to do something more than three times;

I will likely have to do it again at a later date;

It takes more than a single change in a dialog box.

If it meets those, I create a macro. It ensures the same result every time I have to do it, and I don't have to remember any settings. What can I say? I'm lazy.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to revisit a stretch of terrain I hadn't seen in just over a year. Originally, I was going to use the time to lead a different group going longer back to where they could reach their starting point as a long loop, but they opted to do a point to point type run instead.

I decided I would go ahead and do the run I planned, despite the necessity of four wheeling into the starting point. Since I was going solo, and the start point was quite a bit from a paved road, I took it pretty easy, especially over the rocky stretches. I certainly didn't want a turned ankle - or worse - several miles from the truck, and that being 10-12 miles from a paved road.

The day started beautifully, and as I left my side of town to go run on the other, this is what was greeting me. The sun was just about to rise, and I was on my way.

I had extended an open invitation to any to join me, so I went to the meetup location to see if any would bite. None did. Their loss. The ones that were doing the point to point were excited and ready to go. I was facetiously asked if I was going to provide any food at my truck, which would be along their route.

After thinking a second, I realized I should have. So I popped to the store and bought some Ruffles: the perfect run food.

I dropped the chips at the top of Sullivan Canyon - where the group would climb after winding about 10 miles up Eldorado Canyon. That was about 1 km shy of where I parked (view at right). I didn't know that they wouldn't follow the path I expected and had I been waiting to guide them from this point ("guide" being loosely defined, as I would have been doing so from the rear), I would have waited forever; they never saw the chips, nor where I parked.

Things worked out well; I got a beautiful run, they got a great run too, and some wild critter got a great snack of Ruffles.

I sallied forth on my own and did a nice out and back. At one point, the rocks were, shall we say, challenging? I was moving very slowly at this point, since I was about 6 km from the truck. No fun to hobble that far on a bum ankle. Also, there is no cell service there, so getting out would have been my only recourse. Or wait for someone to find me.

When I do solo runs, I have a planned route and I stick with it. That way, if something happens, someone knows my route, so I should be found. At least my carcass would be. Funny thing, it was the last time I did this route that I screwed up about as many times as one can, and come back out. If you want to read that go here.

Below are photos and the elevation profile. It was a different profile than I typically run, in that the overall descent was in the first half of the run and the climb on the second. It didn't matter much as I classify myself as a SUDS runner:

I like beer after a run;

It's an acronym for Same Up Down Speed

In my case, that speed is slow.

I was out for a couple of hours, and during that whole time, I heard not a single engine of any kind, nor saw another person. It was a total "S" run: Slow, Short, Solo, Scenic, and Silent. Well, except for my harsh breathing and occasional admonishment to keep my eyes on the terrain, and not the scenery.